The Portrait of Self-Hatred

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I could see its face. Its body. Its image. That was a lady. I could hardly tell her age. Maybe she was 15 maybe 65. And she was …nasty. She usually wears something black. It symbolizes her need to hide herself. And yet her voice is loud. She tells me a lot of things and makes sure I believe every single word of hers. Sometimes she sounds mad, malicious, arrogant and demanding. She claims that no one really loves me. She yells at me “everyone knows you are a loser! You are desperately trying to hide it but they know everything. Strangers in the streets know you are a failure. No one tells you that just because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. They never truly like you but feel sorry for you. None of your friends thinks you are cool but they still hang out with you. Because you are pathetic. Nothing more but pathetic”. She is perfectly aware of all my vulnerabilities and weak spots. They are her main targets. She has all the necessary tools to destroy me. Yet she is doing it slowly. She is pretty smart and witty but her impulsive nature puts her in a trap from time to time. She is a good and honest critique but too harsh. She wants me to change too quickly. I am a human I cannot make any changes over night but she does not seem to understand. As I said this lady may judge you, label you, discourage you, demolish you but she does not offer any help. And has no remorse for your fragile sensitive human nature. The things she tells you are ultimatums. Ride or die. And there is nothing in between. Ever. I respect her passionate character. She could be a talented leader. But she is mindless. She is only good at passing quick nonsense judgments. And cannot do anything other than that.

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